


The Frozen Friend

by Chelamine



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Baby Canada, Baby Kumajirou, Big brother England, Colonial Canada, Creepy stalker General Winter, Cute, I don't speak french though so I didn't have a choice, Protectiveness, Snow, Snow Day, Snowball Fight, Translator site used, daddy england, sorry about that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 17:03:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3700181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chelamine/pseuds/Chelamine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"His name is Mr. Winter, he doesn't visit often." Canada smiled, accent thick and mushing the words slightly but the message was clear,<br/>That man outside, colored like a frozen corpse, was no weary traveller or overlooked colony official. He was the spirit of winter, and he'd been watching Canada for some time now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Frozen Friend

**Author's Note:**

> It wasn't Google Translate, but I did have to use a translator site so I apologize for mistranslations.

“That’s Mr. Winter.”

The temperatures in Canada were much more extreme than England had grown used to, spending as much time in America as he had. While his newly acquired charge wore nothing but a thin cotton shirt, a mild winter coat, a pair of pants, and worn leather boots, his faithful pet bear by his side, England was bundled tight in furs and thick leathers. He still shivered, the cold eating away at him through the clothes.  
England had been reluctant to go anywhere outside, and only because it was the first thing Canada had requested besides tearful pleas to see his “Papa” since England had settled into France’s old room-the boy had even muddled his way through English to ask, how could the budding Empire say no when he’d tried so hard?  
England hadn’t even had time to bundle Canada up properly before the boy was racing outside, laughing and rolling in the snow. As England watched from the door, the last remnants of heat emanating from the house slowly losing it’s power, he ended up dodging a few snowballs thrown by the much cheerier colony. England smiled, even as the last one pegged him right on the nose and Canada’s cries of triumph in French rang through the air. The boy had spent the last months either in tears or in an angry frenzy, resisting England’s attempts at spending time with him, demanding France’s return.  
England had to wonder what France would think if he could see the boy everytime he dissolved into tears, hiding behind the baby polar bear who would growl in England’s direction until he left the room. England was sure the wine bastard had told Canada to behave when they were saying goodbye, he hadn’t exactly been paying attention and his French was embarrassingly rusty for someone who travelled the world as regularly as he did.  
Canada’s adventures in the snow had gone on nearly all afternoon, and the sun had just begun to dip when England, seeking refuge on the porch with a thick blanket and a cup of tea, stood from his chair to call the boy back to the house.  
The small boy didn’t move however, and instead was staring at something in the distance England couldn’t make out through the snow, which had picked up again at a rather aggressive rate (he had to wonder, should he be worried about getting snowed in?).  
“Canada, I said it’s time to come in.” England said, marching through the white powder towards his colony. Canada didn’t move however, until England ventured closer and the boy, who’d been squinting in confusion in the distance, gave a small giggle and tore away from England, further into the snow. England gave chase, the polar bear cub at his heels as they followed tiny footprints into the distance.  
England found the boy standing by some trees, at the edge of a forest and was jumping up and down in excitement.  
“Matthew, really!” England snapped, his anger causing him to go straight to using the boy’s human name (although the boy would protest whenever he was called Matthew, insisting France was the only one allowed to call him that), “I said it was time to come in, and do you know how dangerous it is to run off into the wilderness while it’s snowing-oh, hello there.”  
A tall, pale man was standing before Canada, kneeling down to get closer to his eye level. Canada was bouncing giddily, giggling with a wide smile. England could only assume the man was perhaps one of Canada’s colonists, an elderly friend or perhaps some official England had overlooked, but then the bear began to growl aggressively, ears folding flat against his white head.  
England frowned, watching the bear slowly inch forward as the man and Canada seemed to be whispering to each other, Canada smiling happily and the man giving a chuckle or two. When they noticed the polar bear approaching, still snarling and gnashing his teeth, Canada frowned and flicked the bear’s nose.  
“Aucun Kumajiou, mal!” The boy snapped softly in french.  
Kumajirou whimpered, nuzzling into Canada’s side and tried to worm his way between the two of them. England watched, a frown etching and deepening itself across his face. As a youth, he’d learned to trust animal’s instincts; something that had saved his life a number of times travelling the English countryside while running from enemies (mainly his brothers). If the polar bear had a problem with this mysterious man, perhaps England should be a bit more than wary.  
“Good evening sir!” He called, approaching the man and his colony. Canada scowled at him, something England had grown use to ignoring, while the man regarded him passively. England preserved the welcoming grin, stopping to stand right beside them and held out his hand.  
“I must say, bit cold for going on any strolls isn’t it?”  
The man stared blankly at him, and England wondered if he should perhaps switch to French, before he stood at full height, easily towering over the Brit. He leaned down, smiling coolly at England and grasped his hand, freezing as ice.  
“Evening sir,” He said, voice old and cracking like ice, “I’m rather used to the cold, it doesn’t bother me much.”  
“Even so,” England continued, noting out of the corner of his eye how the polar bear was now trying to coax his owner onto his back, “It must be important for you to come here, braving the snow and all.”  
“Snow is something I’m also rather adept to,” The man continued, “There’s no need to fear it, once one knows how to work with it.”  
England swallowed, finding the man more than a little unsettling. Up close, he looked like a corpse found frozen to death, and England wondered for a moment if he was actually talking to a ghost or something.  
“So…” He said, mind racing to change the subject, “You know Canada?”  
“The land,” The man asked, gesturing to the surrounding trees, “Or the boy?” Canada smiled warmly up at him, bouncing from his seat on Kumajirou’s back docily.  
“Both, I guess.”  
“It’s not a land I spend much time in,” The old, gray man sighed, “I have business tying me to other places, but I’ve strolled through once or twice,” He smiled warmly down at Canada again, “The little one has always been very hospitable to me when I visit.”  
“So you’ve been here before?” England asked.  
“A long time ago.”  
England nodded, turning at the sound of Canada giving a frustrated squeak. He was pulling at Kumajirou’s fur, trying to get off though the polar bear wouldn’t let him as he carried little Canada back towards the house.  
“I’m sorry sir, I’d love to chat more but I do need to get the boy inside.” England said quickly as Canada rolled off Kuma’s back and into the snow, popping up again with a giggle, “The cold and all is sure to make him sick.”  
“Oh, I wouldn’t know,” the man shrugged, “The boy’s always been happiest in the cold, in my opinion.”  
“We’ll have to chat about it another time then,” England nodded, reaching down and scooping Canada into his arms. The boy squirmed in protest, but could not escape as easily as he’d done from the bear’s back.  
“We will.” The man nodded, reaching down to ruffle Canada’s hair, “Farewell then, little one.”  
“Non!” Canada whined, “Ne partez pas encore!”  
“I’ll return, don’t worry.” The man said, patting Canada’s hair and turning towards the trees, “It was lovely seeing you again.”  
He disappeared between the thick trunks, as England craned his neck this way and that around the trees he couldn’t see the man continue to walk off. It was as if he’d simply disappeared the moment he walked behind a tree!  
Feeling creeped out, and at the insistence of the young polar bear (who’d taken a length of England’s pant leg into his mouth and begun tugging towards the house), England turned to go. Canada pouted in his arms the entire time, arms crossed and cheeks puffed out.  
“Canada,” England asked as they entered the front gate of the house, “Who was that man, really?”  
Canada scowled at England, turning away with a “hmmph!” and refused to answer. England sighed, setting the boy down in a chair by the fire once they entered and going to find a few towels, the melting snow creating several puddles of water around the both of them. Kumajirou gave a shake of his fur, spraying water droplets everywhere and adding to the coating of moisture on Canada’s face.  
“Is he an old friend?” England tried again as he toweled the boy’s hair, “Someone Francis would bring to visit?”  
“Non.” Canada sighed, speaking in French perhaps to annoy England, “Le père ne l'a pas aimé la visite, il lui a dit de partir la fois dernière.”  
“English please.”  
“Papa… not… like him?” Canada tried, accent heavy as he muddled through the broken sentence.  
“Really?” England frowned, “Why?”  
“Il a dit qu'il était horrible. Qu'il ait ressemblé à un corps-“  
“Canada. English.”  
“Papa say he look like a dead person. That he was dangerous.” Canada shrugged, “Doesn’t understand. Is only Winter.”  
“Excuse me?”  
Canada leaned forward, pulling his hair out of the fluffy towel and turned to look at England with wide, childish eyes.  
“He’s Mr. Winter.” He said simply.  
England felt his heart stop for a moment.  
He hadn’t been talking to some weary traveler, or an overlooked colony official…  
He’d been speaking to a spirit indeed. A very powerful spirit too, if he was in charge of a season.  
“Does he visit often?” England asked, almost afraid of the answer.  
“No… he used to, lot less now.” Canada shrugged, “Makes me a little lonely. Makes me miss Papa…”  
“Canada…” England sighed, squatting beside the chair and looking the small boy in the eye, “Canada I’m sorry. I’m sorry you miss France, and I’m sorry he had to leave so soon. I’m sure the two of you were very happy here.”  
“Oui.” Canada sniffed, Kumajirou plodding over and stretching up to touch his owner’s leg with his nose.  
England sighed, reaching out and stroking the blonde locks that reminded him of the French bastard, “I want us to be friends Canada, and who knows, perhaps France may be able to come for a visit.”  
The boy instantly brightened, “Vraiment?”  
“Oui.” England smirked, absently twisting a lock of the blonde hair around his finger, “But only if you’re a good boy, alright? We don’t want him embarrassed by you getting into trouble all the time, do we?”  
“Non…” Canada sighed, looking down at his bear and reaching out to pet his paw.  
England smiled as the boy let loose a yawn, “And I guess our first step in this new friendship is you allowing me to draw you a warm bath and put you to bed.”  
“O… okay…” Canada said, stifling another yawn and allowing the older nation to pick him up and carry him up the stairs, Kumajirou close to follow.  
~◊~~◊~~◊~~◊~~◊~~◊~~◊~~◊~~◊~~◊~~◊~~◊~~◊~~◊~~◊~~◊~~◊~~◊~~◊~~◊~~◊~~◊~~◊~~◊~~◊~~◊~~◊~~◊~~◊~~◊~~◊~~◊~  
Putting Canada to bed that night had been the easiest, least strife-ridden bedtime to date. Canada had seemed to even enjoy the story England told him, the two of them cuddled up beneath Canada’s thick comforter and England switching between English and French in his storytelling. When the boy’s eyes had finally fallen closed, England had carefully extracted himself from the bed and allowed Kumajirou to slip into his place, Canada’s small arms curling around the white fur.  
England had then retreated to his study, where he forced tired eyes to glance over this report and that statement, not hearing when the door creaked open. He yawned instead, deaf to the pattering of feet as they approached.  
He jumped in the air, letting out a rather effeminate shriek as whoever had entered bumped against his leg. He looked wildly around for an attacker, seeing the room to be empty until he looked down as Kumajirou began to paw at his leg.  
“Oh… oh it’s you…” England panted, his heart threatening to burst out of his chest, “Dear me, you gave me quite the fright there…”  
“Don’t let Winter come back.”  
England stilled, taken aback as the bear began to speak. Sure, a few of the animals connected to nations had the ability to talk, but they were all magical creatures, his flying bunny friend flying to the forefront of his mind as a leading example. This here, he’d assumed to be a normal polar bear, influenced by Canada’s nationhood status to stick around and never age much like the boy.  
This was the first he’d ever heard him speak, and suddenly all those times Canada protested the bear had told him to do something or the bear had said something himself behind England’s back told a very different story.  
“Don’t let Winter come back.” The bear repeated and England jumped.  
“T-that man from earlier?” England asked, pointing out the window where he had a clear view of the front yard and beyond.  
“Yeah,” The bear nodded, “Don’t let him come back, he’s dangerous.”  
“That’s what France said, isn’t it?”  
“That’s what I told him.” Kuma said, “I don’t trust him, and I don’t like him around Canada.”  
“Has he ever done anything-“  
“No, but he could. I can just tell he’d do it if he could.” Kumajirou said, a menacing glimmer in his beady black eyes, “I’m not going to give him that chance. He used to hang around all the time, even when Canada didn’t know. He’d be watching him from the trees or something; it was creepy.”  
“And you never said anything?”  
“Canada thinks he’s a friend, and he won’t listen to me as a result.”  
England sighed, looking out the window at the snowy yard and the trees surrounding it. He was sure it was his now very paranoid imagination doing it, but if he strained his eyes and turned his head just enough… he could have sworn he saw a tall, imposing looking man the color of a dead corpse standing just before the tree line, staring back.  
“Right… we’ll be moving to my house in America’s colonies as soon as the snow lets up enough for travel.” England decided, looking down at the bear, “I’m sure he won’t be happy about it, but I’ve been meaning to introduce little Canada to his brother anyway.”  
Kumajirou nodded, looking as satisfied as a baby polar bear can look before turning and plodding away, back towards the warm bed with the baby nation waiting for him.  
England would be glancing anxiously out the window the rest of the night, to wired with adrehnaline to sleep. In the morning he’d slump over on the desk, and wake to find Kuma and Canada playing go fish at his feet.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:  
> Aucun Kumajiou, mal! (French): No Kumajirou, bad!
> 
> Non!... Ne partez pas encore! (French): No!...Don’t leave yet!
> 
> Non…. Le père ne l'a pas aimé la visite, il lui a dit de partir la fois dernière. (French): No…. Papa didn’t like him visiting, he told him to leave last time.
> 
> Il a dit qu'il était horrible. Qu'il ait ressemblé à un corps- (French): He said he was creepy. That he looked like a frozen corpse-
> 
> Vraiment (French): Really?


End file.
